Tabula Rasa Rewrite
by Oiche
Summary: Tabula Rasa Rewrite - with season six Brody and special guests all will be revealed


Brody and Spike walked hand-in-hand through Restfield Cemetery

Brody and Spike walked hand-in-hand through Restfield Cemetery. The night was warm and a slight, welcome breeze whispered teasingly against their skin. The only noises were the trickling of leaves tumbling across the dewy earth and the soft, graceful pad of their predatory footsteps. She wore three-quarter length, faded blue-jeans -purposely torn and ripped-, an ebony-silk, off-the-shoulder, button down shirt, black Chuck Taylor All-stars and a full length, black, leather duster. She was in her demon visage, her normal features yet they were now ethereal and looked too perfect, as if carved from stone. Her pale pink hair cascaded in curled waves down her back, strewn with fresh blossoms. Her lips were light lavender and her eyes a rich, pale gold colour.

Spike wore his standard uniform; black tee and jeans, Docs and his leather duster. However, adorning his neck was a strong silver chain with a ring on it. The ring was elaborately made from woven spikes of silver in a Celtic design. Three tiny stones decorated it; a crimson ruby (to signify Brody's love and passion for him), a blue sapphire (to signify the serenity and harmony their match triggered between them) and an ochre (to show that they hadn't forgotten their demons but that together they could weather the storm). Spike refused to wear it on his hand during patrol for fear that the precious gift Brody had given him would befall some incident.

As they paced between the headstones, warily hunting evil Spike was quoting Shakespeare to her and she was doing the same in return. Sometimes they quoted seriously, conveying their love and passion for each other. Sometimes they quoted the most ridiculous lines they could think of. Brody was in hysterics from his rendition of Puck's speech t the end of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ in a voice that sounded eerily like Giles' pouty, I-didn't-get-my-way tone. She loved the way he truly opened up when they were alone; she loved all of him and that meant William as well as his demon.

Brody noticed two, young, Polper demons (a peaceful race) that were being stalked by a vampire. They were chatting and laughing completely unaware of the danger they were in. Moronic! All vampires knew that Polper blood was tangy and salty, a delicacy among vamps. When would people learn not to walk through darkened graveyards, with scent of their delicious life essence hanging in the air? And they weren't even paying attention. Brody kissed Spike's forehead and rushed to help and lecture the two young boys.

Spike sighed 'Gits! Stealing what's mine because of their stupidity'. He continued the sweep of the cemetery, this was the last stop for their patrol tonight and he wanted to be home sleeping with the love of his un-life in his arms. But there was the damned Scooby meeting to attend! He sighed again; it was going to be a long night.

Looking at the sky and thinking about his girl, while toying with the ring around his neck. He didn't recognise Slayer vibes or notice Buffy standing in front of him. Well, at least he didn't notice her until he had bumped into her.

"Hey! Watch it, dumbass!" Buffy said and she span around to face him "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, 's me. Sorry." Spike apologised.

"It's okay. Where's Dee?" Buffy asked craning her neck to look around his shoulder.

"Went off to stake and sermon." Spike replied with a shrug.

"The usual then." Buffy noted with a grin.

"Yep, and she was pissed off too. They're in for it now." Spike laughed.

"She'd have me shaking in my stylish yet affordable boots if I were at the mercy of her safety speech." Buffy commented with a shudder. "I already got one of my own."

"Me too." Spike recalled the incident happily "She only does it to people she worries about. With strangers it's 'cause as Gallia, her job is to protect and love the people. But with us, it's because she loves us by choice."

"It's really wiggy when you do that!"

"Wha?"

"When you get with the warm fuzzies about my baby sister!" Buffy declared.

"She's not a baby anymore, 'sides she's an amazing woman. Deserves better than me but as she seems to like me, I'll just have to dote on her." Spike said.

"She's lucky to have someone who loves her so much." Buffy said giving him a sheepish smile.

"Thanks, pet. And I'll happily accept tha' olive branch."

Spike and Buffy smiled at each other for a second then Buffy suddenly jumped at him, pulling them both to the ground. Spike fell against a headstone banging his head on it and Buffy dropped beside a tree.

"What the bloody hell—" Spike began, looking at Buffy with shocked, disappointed, angry eyes but stopped when he looked up.

Standing there were three demons; one with a shark's head in a flamboyant suit and two vampires in more tame suits. Where Spike had been standing there was a wooden stake embedded in the tree. The two vampires flanked the other demon, obviously flunkies.

"Easy, boys. No need to get physical-like." the shark demon said with a chuckle to the vampires beside him.

Spike and Buffy hopped to their feet, him cradling his bleeding head.

"Is there, Mister Spike?" the Shark demon continued.

"You know this guy?!" Buffy demanded incredulously.

"Yeah." he replied to Buffy, then addressed the demon "Whadda you want?"

"You know me, uh ... there are a lot of things I would like, Mister Spike." he started as he pulled the stake out of the tree "A house in Bel Air ..." he then walked toward Spike "with a generously sized swimming pool ...and your dust to give the boss."

"Well, you don't always get what you want, or I'd be even more ridiculously handsome, barf-inducingly rich, sun-proof and live in merry old England with my gal." Spike smirked. The Shark-man shook his head angrily at Spike's insolent behaviour.

"This was just a job…but now I'm going to enjoy this." Shark-dude said.

The vampires lunged forward and Buffy beat them back with a punch to one and a kick to the other. While Buffy was incapacitated with the goons, the Shark turned to Spike. As he walked towards Spike a lithe figure dropped from the tree and stood between them, it was Brody. Her eyes flashed menacingly and her stance was defensive, ready to pounce.

"I said she was the Slayer, boss." one of the vampires stated as he and his partner rushed from Buffy to flank their boss once more.

"Ahh, good for you. The vampire slayer." the boss commented mildly then turned to Brody "And who might you be, my pretty?"

"She's not your fucking anything!" Spike growled dangerously.

"Temper!" the shark-guy admonished, feigning shock.

Brody stepped forward and got in the boss's face. "I'm the half-demon, demi-goddess, Slayer that is going to rip out your intestines and strangle you with them, if you ever so much as dream about trying to touch what's mine again." she snarled.

The minions stepped forward to defend their boss and Brody's head shot up. She eyed them contemptuously before bearing her teeth and hissing some indiscernible language. Their eyes widened and they turned before sprinting out of the cemetery.

"It seems your boys aren't that loyal, you should look into that. Now, I suggest you leave, or bring it bitch because I really need to work off some tension." she sneered as she looked at him speculatively "I'd go with the former if I were you."

He nodded and fled the scene.

"Whoa! You can be really scary sis." Buffy exclaimed.

"And dontchu forget it Buff! 'Specially when you're foraging in my closet!" Brody said with a smirk before she linked arms with Spike and her sister. "Come on, let's blow this joint."

Willow bounced down the stairs and into the living room of the house she and Tara rented. Now magically dry and dressed she hurried into the room and pulled the armchair back. Turning it over, she tore at the lining at it's base where a secret compartment was hidden. She reached into it and grabbed the book she had 'borrowed' from Brody's personal collection. Flipping to the correct page she set the book down and walked to a dresser. Willow rummaged in the beaten old piece of furniture and grabbed the necessary herbs.

She sat in front of the fireplace and placed three sprigs of a bright orange herb into the hearth. She set the herbs alight and sprinkled purple sand over them, the fire turned a luminous green. Willow placed the book on her lap and read the incantation.

_I offer thee, Powers of the Fate,_

_Branches of Dansel from the Hertald dimension,_

_And blessed sand from the In-Between Lands,_

_Give my suffering friends the peace they need,_

_The hope that is lost,_

_Transport the sorrow and replace it with a new life,_

_Chance to try again,_

_To forget all their strife._

Willow smiled triumphantly and pulled a clear crystal from a pouch at her waist. Then dipped it into the flames.

_When the fire goes out, _

_When the crystal turns black,_

_The spell will be cast._

_Live again,_

_No matter where or when,_

_Let the pain dim,_

_And a chance at happiness begin._

She then placed the crystal back in the pouch and rushed to her feet. She brushed herself off and ran to grab her keys before heading to the Magic Box. She smiled happily. Tara would forget the forget spell, Buffy would have a chance to be happy again and Brody's heart would heal fully after the loss of her friends. Things were about to magically get better for them all.

As Willow approached the Magic Box and bumped into Xander, back at the house a spark out of the hearth and landed in the bag of herbs. The dry plants caught aflame and another spark landed on the book, burning away some candle wax. The writing that had been hidden read:

_Caution: Spell may cause time travel__, dimension-hopping and excessive memory loss. To be performed in a controlled, group condition. Only the very adept spellcasters should attempt this spell._

"So whadda we got?" Dawn asked excitedly, looking to Giles as she stood at the step down to the main floor space of the shop.

Giles, Joyce, Anya, and Tara sat at the round table. Anya and Tara were thumb-wrestling. Buffy sat on the stairs leading to the loft. Buffy looked bored and was humming to herself.

"Sorry?" Giles asked, looking up and noticing her questioning gaze.

"What kind of oogly-boogleys? Lizardy types, or um, zombies, or, or vampires, or what?" Dawn elaborated.

"There are no oogly-boogleys, Dawn. Per sae." Giles began.

Suddenly the shop door slammed open, with the jingling of the bell above it. Willow and Xander walked in companionably, chatting as they entered. Willow was wearing Xander's jacket with his name sewn on the front.

"Thanks for the jacket. It's cold out there."

"Not a problem, the cold only makes me stronger and more macho-like."

They joined the others inside the shop and leaned against the counter. Giles frowned at their interruption.

"Okay, once Brody and Spike get here we can start this meeting, the thing is…." but Giles never got to finish his statement as the shop door burst open once again.

Spike's duster was the first thing to be seen in the doorway, then a flash of pale pink hair. Brody and Spike tangoed through the door and swept into the room. Spike whispered something in her ear and Brody giggled as they moved. Then Spike pulled them to a halt beside Dawn, dipped Brody over backwards and kissed her. He nibbled at the point where her jaw and throat met, then peppered kisses along her face until their mouths met. Brody dragged her teeth along his full, bottom lip and pulled with it a happy little moan from Spike. He felt the tickle of her tongue against his lips as she begged entrance, which he allowed with vigour. As Spike began to explore her mouth, Giles cleared his throat purposefully. Brody smiled at him sheepishly and he looked back sternly but his eyes twinkled in delight for his daughter. Spike settled her back on her feet and held out a hand to a giggling Dawn and twirled her around the floor in precise, tutored steps from his distant past. After a couple of times around the floor he released Dawn and they sat with Brody on the step.

"Go on ahead there, Giles." Spike said with a nod.

"How kind of you" Giles muttered sarcastically. "I called you here because there have been sightings of two, rogue demon slayers. We need to ascertain if they are capable enough or if they're going to get themselves killed."

"What do we know about them?" Brody asked and Willow checked on the crystal unbeknownst to the others. It was glowing green. 'Soon' she thought delightedly.

"They are apparently brothers, both in their twenties. Both have brown hair, one mid-length and the other shorter. The older one is shorter and more muscular, the younger is tall and leaner." Giles read from a sheet in front of him.

Back at Willow and Tara's house the flames died away and the crystal in Willow's pocket at the Magic Box turned black.

"Okay we need to find out where these guys are and…." Brody said before she fell backwards, unconscious. All around the room the same happened to the others.

Broderique Summers-Giles awoke with a start. 'What a strange dream' she thought, but when she tried she couldn't recall the details of it, only that it was odd.

She shrugged, stretched in the huge bed of her new room and hopped out of bed. They had returned to England last night. Her family had left when she was six, her father didn't want his daughters to grow up to be the simpering morons of High English society. For the rest of her childhood they had toured the globe, India, China, America, Italy, North-Africa, France, Spain, Germany and many more countries. She and her sisters had been submerged in the many different cultures and their education far surpassed that of a normal Victorian girl. They had enjoyed their way of living but it was decided that they needed to return to England for the 'Season' to come out into society and possibly be married off. It had nearly broken their father's heart to reduce them to being objects for a man to choose but he knew it was necessary and had to be done.

Broderique didn't begrudge her father; she loved him far too much to ever do that. It was the way of the world and she realized that. It didn't mean she would accept everything as it was, for one she would have a love match and would not compromise on that. But her father, he was a great man. She knew she was his favourite by how he doted on her. She was like the son he never had, a tomboy. She knew she wasn't like other girls; she thirsted for knowledge and was always asking questions. She refused to sit quiet like a good, pretty young lady and ignored the 'speak when spoken to' rule. As a young girl she had always played with the local boys of where ever her family was currently staying; climbing trees, horse-riding, fencing. While other young ladies were sewing or knitting, she would read or paint or take off on her horse.

She walked to the large French doors that opened onto a balcony. Her pale pink nightdress floated around her, chiffon, gossamer, lace and satin. She pulled back the curtains and smiled to see that the weather outside was beautiful; azure, cloudless sky and bright sun. She opened the door and a warm breeze carried the smell of lavender, jasmine, passionflower and honeysuckle through the open doorway. She had chosen this room when a servant had described it to the family by letter for the scent, view and closeness to the library. 'Perfect weather to explore the city!' she thought excitedly. While they had lived in England before, they had lived in the country estate. She had never lived in London before and was desperate to see everything.

She rushed to her closet and pulled out her favourite riding gown. It was empire line, mint green and gauzy. The skirts were light and easy to move in and the bodice was decorated with a beautiful floral pattern. The dress looked pixyish, something a fairy or nymph would wear. She sat in front of her vanity dresser and held the dress against herself. It suited her perfectly, complimenting her oddly coloured hair.

Her hair had always been striking. It was a blonde tint like her sister, Elizabeth and mother, Joyce but was so pale it was almost white and had another tint of red. Overall it left her hair looking a pale pink colour, verging on being white.

The dress made her look even more like a mythical creature and the effect was stunning. She was classically beautiful but in a different way to other women. Her eyes were wide and a startling blue-grey colour. Her nose was straight and small with no bumps. Her lips were plump and beautifully curved. Her cheeks and jaw were delicately sculpted. But her loveliness was heightened by the magnificence of her heart and soul. She was a good, kind, intelligent person and it shone through.

She pulled on her dress and adjusted the ties by herself, not wanting to awaken her, no doubt, exhausted Lady's Maid after their long trip from Greece. She slipped on the oriental riding boots that she adored but which were not technically fashionable. The nightingale pattern was bright and always made her cheery. Then clipping her hair back loosely from her face she dashed to the library that her father had given her. Her sisters had little interest in books and her mother stored her treasured tomes in her private parlour. They all agreed when her father had suggested it should be hers. The library was large and bright. While not as polished or elaborate as the rest of their London home, it was comfortable and relaxing. The room had a domed skylight and two large bay windows with a French door onto the balcony adjoining to her rooms. There was also a door leading to the main hallway and one to her father's study. Twenty bookcases lined the room in little corridors. At the fore of the room was a large, granite and mahogany hearth with chaise lounges and two beaten leather armchairs surrounding it in a semi-circle. A low coffee table lay between the lounges. Broderique made her way through the library, past bookcases and to the door leading to her father's study.

She knocked lightly on the door. "Papa?"

"Brody! Do come in!" his distinguished voice called out.

Brody edged inside and bounced to his desk before flopping into a chair opposite him. He took in her clothing and demeanour with a raised eyebrow in amusement.

"I hope you will be behaving more lady-like than that in company!" he teased as he marked the page of his book and placed it on the desk before him.

"Of course, indeed." she said off-handed, waving a hand in a 'don't worry about it' gesture.

"Good." he said, though in reality he didn't want his little girl changing to appease some society idiots. He nodded at her outfit "Are you planning on going somewhere?" he asked.

"Well, I was hoping you would escort me for a canter around the city. We could scout out some parks for riding, perhaps?" she said, giving him puppy-dog eyes and batting her lashes.

He chuckled warmly at her behaviour. "Alright, we shall go and see what the city has to offer. We had best be getting downstairs for breakfast first, though, or your mother will kill me."

Brody smiled at him. "Thank you, Papa!"

He hugged her around the waist and they walked out to the hall with his arm around her. Kissing the top of her head, he responded "Not at all, my dear. Not at all."

When they entered the dining hall Elizabeth, Joyce and Dawn were all seated and waiting for them. They beamed at the arrival of the rest of their family, happy to see them, happy that they could now eat.

"Thank, lord! I am absolutely famished." Dawn declared.

"And a 'Good morning' to you too!" Brody replied with a smirk before hugging her sister and then the other. She walked over to her mother.

"Good morrow Mumma!" she said, kissing the top of her mother's head.

"Hello, dearest. Did you sleep well?" Joyce inquired as Brody sat beside her and opposite Dawn.

"Quite well. Though I miss Greece a tad." Brody admitted.

"I must admit, I do miss the sea being so close." Joyce said gently "But you will settle down here in no time and you will not have to adjust again, we are here to stay now."

Brody nodded and her father approached to bid his wife hello. He stood behind Joyce's chair and hugged her.

"Hello, my love." he whispered to her.

"Good morning, Rupert. Did you enjoy the book?" Joyce asked.

"Yes, I did. Your taste in literature is impeccable, my lovely." Rupert greeted his other daughters jovially and sat at the head of the table.

"So, what is everyone up to today?" he queried as they began to eat.

"Mumma is bringing Dawn and me to get new ribbons for the ball tonight. We have none that match our new ball gowns. And I have to replace the curling irons I broke." Elizabeth announced merrily.

"Yes, Beth broke the last ones when she dropped them out the window and into a passing carriage!" Dawn recalled with a laugh. Elizabeth shot her a glare and crossed her arms.

"It was your fault!" Beth accused.

"It was not!" Dawn retorted haughtily.

"It was indeed! You left your knitting on the ground and I fell over it." Beth countered.

"Oh yes, now I remember!" Dawn squealed with laughter.

"Girls, please don't bicker at the table!" Joyce admonished and shook her head at the spluttering laughter of her husband and two youngest daughters. "I meant to ask, do you wish to come with us Brody?"

"No, I'm going to explore the city with Papa today." Brody gasped between chuckles and indicated to her attire.

"I see" Joyce said "You both need to be home by three, then. We are having lunch with a few select families so that we know some people at our ball tonight. I need you both to be there and on time."

"Three? That is very late for lunch." Dawn declared.

"Yes it is, but I need to organise a few things first so, three, I'm afraid it is." Joyce explained.

"Do not fret Dawnie. I will not let you starve. I will bring you back some chocolate." Brody assured her sibling, who smiled graciously at her in return. Then Brody hopped up from the table, grabbed a chocolate muffin and finished her tea.

"If you will all excuse me, I'm going to see to it that Portia is saddled."

"Go ahead dear, your father will be out in a few moments." Joyce said.

Brody nodded and skipped from the room. She greeted all the servants by name as she walked down the halls and out the back door to the stables. She had made sure to memorise each of their names the night before. She hated nobility that treated their help as less than human and intended to be as fair and kind to the servants as possible, without being walked all over.

She crossed the manicured lawn at the back of the house and followed the twisted path through the small orchard, past the fountain, past the small river, across the little bridge and into the cobble stoned yard. Brody strolled into the stable and greeted each of the horses as she passed their box. The stable-boy, Jack, was sitting on a small stool at the back of the stable, grooming Dawn's tiny pony. He turned at the sound of Brody's voice and flashed her a wide smile. She liked him a lot; he was clean and well groomed for a man of the Victorian working class. He was kind and polite and pleasant to look at. His hair was long and chestnut coloured, he kept it tied back in a neat bow. He had big, sincere green eyes and always greeted her warmly.

"'Mornin' Miss Broderique." he said "How can I help you?"

"I am just going to take Portia out." Brody explained as she walked to her horse and patted her neck. She kissed the horse's nose and murmured to her.

"I'll saddle her up for you then." Jack told her and walked to Brody's side.

"No thank you. I prefer to care for Portia myself." Brody explicated softly. "But thank you anyway. Papa and the others will require your services, however."

Jack watched curiously as she prepared the horse. Her fingers worked deftly and expertly. She knew exactly what she was doing and performed each task proficiently and to perfection. He shook his head in amazement.

"Why d'ya wanna care for her yourself?" Jack asked. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Well, I guess with people doing everything for me, I need some independence. And I like to feel useful." Brody answered after a few moments thought.

"You're not like other ladies." Jack noted.

She laughed slightly at that. "So, I've been told."

"It's a good thing." he assured her.

"Thanks, I'll see you soon." Brody hopped onto Portia and trotted out the door. She made her way through the gardens back to meet her father with Jack following with her father's horse. He handed the reins to Brody to hold until Rupert arrived then waved and hurried back to the stables. Minutes later Rupert appeared in the doorway and bounced down the steps to join his daughter.

William woke from a strange dream, he couldn't remember why, but knew it was unusual. He straightened up and a book slid from his lap. His back was killing him and he looked about him to realise that he had fallen asleep reading again. He was curled up in the leather armchair before his hearth. 'I have to stop doing this' he thought 'I don't think that my back can take much more of it.' He stretched and stood just as there was a brief, sharp knock on his bedroom door.

His butler bobbed his head around the door. "Sir?"

"Come in Wright." he called.

The middle aged, energetic man bustled into the room with freshly washed and pressed clothes over his arm. He held them out to William and smiled brightly. William liked this butler, he was ever merry, did his job thoroughly and without complaint.

"Here you are, Sir. Your Mother wishes to speak with you. Also, may I inquire as to what you wish to do today?" Wright asked his kind Master.

"What is the weather like?" William counter-questioned.

"Blue skies, warm and not a sign of rain." the Butler reported.

"Then I think I should like to take Pegasus out for a bit of exercise." William answered the earlier question.

"Of course, very good, Sir. There is a bath drawn for you in your suite. I will have Pegasus organised." The Butler disappeared out the door and left his boss to change and ready himself for the coming day.

William entered his en suite bathroom and stripped out of his day-old clothes before easing his sylphlike body into the large tub. The water was hot and comforted his abused back. He bathed quickly and dressed even more speedily then rushed downstairs to the dining room.

"Mother!" he exclaimed happily to see his beautiful, sweet, old mother.

"William, my dear, good morning." she replied as he kissed her cheek and sat down at the table opposite her.

"What was it you wished to speak with me about?" he asked of her

"Well, I do not know what your plans for the day are, but we are going to lunch at the Summers-Giles household. They are new to London and want to meet a few families before they have an introductory ball tonight. We are going to both and I need you home by quarter past two so we can be on time for their late lunch."

"Okay, I will be home on time, I promise." William vowed.

"I believe you dear, you never let me down. So what will you do today?" his mother, Anne, inquired.

"I think I'll go for a ride at the new park and then visit Cook's bookshop." he replied.

"Well good, enjoy yourself my dear." Anne said.

William rode through the streets of the stylish areas of London. While on his ebony, Arab steed, he looked nothing like his awkward, earth-bound self. He was dignified, refined and masculine. He wore a charcoal suit with a waistcoat the cerulean colour of his eyes. He soon dipped through the gates and into the new park. He ignored the popular part of the park at the front; there he was like to run into the horrible characters of Marcus Fisher, Jacob Shaw or Theodore Lawrence. He knew that he would have to endure them tonight and would not do it twice in one day. The one bright spot in the horror that was attending the society outings was the brief glimpses and snippets of conversation of and with Cecily Addams. She was beautiful and delicate. The perfect type of woman to write verses about.

While he thought on the subject of Cecily he followed the more obscure path, winding through the small grove and to the large clearing. It was naturally beautiful here, unembellished or landscaped. It was not as frequented as the rest of the park and virtually unknown to any. He had found it when trying to lose Marcus Fisher in a crowd and since then, came here as often as possible. It was safe, predictable, constant.

Or so he thought. When William reached the wide clearing he noticed that he was not alone here as he usually was. There was a man of about fifty years of age sitting on the sloping lawn beside his grazing horse, watching something. As William got closer he saw what the man was looking at with a wide smile. There was a startling, pure white horse with an ivory tail and mane being led at a frighteningly fast pace by a young woman. She was younger than William, around seventeen years old and had long pale pink hair that was shocking to look at. Her simple riding attire complimented her colouring and accented her slender form. The unusual hair was pinned back loosely and becoming wilder by the second. Tendrils of the wavy locks framed her face and spanned down her back. Her face was stunning and flushed from the exertion as well as the strain of melodic laughter as she threw comments over her shoulder at the man, obviously her father. All thoughts of Cecily were chased from his mind and his heart skipped a beat as he watched her. Her kind eyes were trained on her father as she handled the horse with ease and poise. She pulled the horse in front of her father and hopped to the ground while the horse was still galloping. William held his breath, waiting for her to fall to her death and end her handsome existence. But he did so in vain; she landed precisely on her feet and bowed gallantly to her father.

"We will be here until Saturday. Try the veal, it is superb." she commented jokingly.

"That was amazing, dear. But, for the love of God, my heart can only take so much!" the father announced.

"I am sorry, Papa!" she replied, hugging him "Forgive me?" She widened her eyes and worried her full, bottom lip between her perfect teeth. 'Poor, sod' William thought sympathetically 'Never stood a chance against that expression.'

"Behave yourself!" the father chided half-heartedly "And stop using that expression on me! It is not rightly fair."

"Of course!" she said, waving a hand at him flippantly. She righted her dress and tucked her hair into place, casually. But it looked so striking as it was she needn't have bothered. Her eyes surveyed the meadow and fell on William. Their eyes clashed and he stared into her blue-grey orbs for a moment, before becoming shy and casting his gaze aside. She was smiling when he looked back in her direction. It was not the manipulative, deceitful, fake smile of many of the young society women. It was kind, sincere, slightly amused and genuinely interested. She waved a hand at him and called out.

"Hello there! How are you on this gift of a day?"

He directed his horse over to the two figures and leaped down. He was slightly thrown by her friendly, direct manner. She, unlike so many, behaved as if she had a brain. He let his horse go graze with the other two and turned to the father and daughter.

"H-hello. It is nice to meet you both. My name is William Pratt." he introduced himself.

"Hello, I am Rupert Giles and this is my daughter Miss Broderique Summers-Giles." the father said and extended his hand to William, who shook it gratefully. 'Broderique!' he echoed in his head 'A beautiful name for an astonishing woman. Though, such a long name, for such a little thing.'

"A pleasure." William exclaimed and Brody stepped forward extending her hand as well. William stared at it for a moment. He was not used to women greeting him so cordially. He knew by the way her hand was held that he was expected to kiss it. While part of him rejoiced at the thought, a part also wiggled fearfully.

He raised his eyes to her face and she was looking back encouragingly. He took her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. Both shivered at the sensation and William remained holding her hand for much longer than necessary. He was surprised that Broderique did not wrench away from him but she appeared to be as entranced as he was.

A throat-clearing from her father, however, and William was hastily dropping her hand. He watched her reaction and thought he imagined that she looked sadly at the ground at the loss. He, himself, wanted to take her hand and kiss it for all eternity, and then some.

He was horrified by his improper thoughts and tried to shake himself from such a dangerous line of contemplation. When she looked brightly at him once more, he was sure that he had imagined her sorrowful expression, seconds ago.

"So, you are a native Londoner then?" she asked and when William nodded, she continued "I see, well then, I wonder if you might be able to help us?"

He cocked his head curiously in a way that his mother was always scolding him over, but he couldn't help it; this girl piqued his interest. "I will try my hardest, Miss Broderique."

"Oh please, no one calls me Broderique. Call me Brody, please." she explained and before he could argue, she went back to the matter at hand "Pray, tell us, where are there good bookshops around here? Father and I are just itching to update our collections."

"Well Miss…" at her pointed look and quirked eyebrow, daring him, he sighed and relented "Miss Brody, that is where I was headed next, I could show you both the way if you would like?"

"Yes, that would be most helpful, thank you." Rupert replied and they each ran to grab their horses.

When they led their horses out of the clearing Rupert went slightly ahead and Brody and William rode side by side. He was delighted to be seen next to such a good-looking, kind creature. As they moved through the park Brody pulled her horse closer to his and patted Pegasus' neck. The horse leaned into her touch and neighed appreciatively.

Chuckling she turned to William. "What is this handsome fellow's name?"

"His name is Pegasus." William replied and she raised a delicate brow in response.

"Pegasus?" she questioned and laughed "You were being ironic, right?"

"Yes."

"Good, because I'd worry for your intelligence if you named a horse of opposite colouring and gender, after the opposing mythical horse. Although, I must say, knowing that you were being ironic: That is brilliant!" she laughed.

"Thank you, no one ever does get the joke. I think you are the first." William responded appreciatively. 'I dare say, that this girl has no flaws; intelligent, funny, good humoured, gorgeous and well-read.' he thought.

"Well, I am glad to have the honour of being the first." she announced cheerfully with a nod and a smirk.

"What is your horse's name?" William inquired after a few moments silence.

"Oh, her name is Portia."

"And why, pray tell, did you decide upon that name?" William asked.

"Well, I love Shakespeare's works. When I saw Portia, she was very like the character from _The Merchant of Venice_." Brody explained honestly.

"How so?"

"She was desired by many men across the globe because both her parents are prize-winners and Portia was the only foal they had together. She is beautiful and fair; like Portia was described as. She is very clever, quite funny and a tad sneaky." Brody said.

"I say! That is rather witty of you." William declared, looking over at Brody through his thick lashes. She gazed back in the same manner and grinned at him shyly.

"Why, thank you, kind sir." she said and fluttered her eyelashes at him in a ridiculous imitation of one of the society women. William laughed and she joined him, sticking out her tongue briefly before returning it to her mouth quickly. She seemed to realise that her behaviour was not ladylike and looked down at the ground. William was upset; the stupid society rules were stifling her lovely spirit. He was glad, however, that she looked away. The sight of her tongue had him adjusting his position on his horse; his trousers were now impossibly tight.

"This bookshop…" she began and William looked up to see her startling eyes trained on him again "Is it good? What kinds of books are usually available?"

"It has a very wide selection. There is a very good poetry section, the best in London." William reported.

"Oh good, I do feel in the mood for some Byron." Brody commented mildly while William gaped at her. It was ridiculous; this woman could not have been more perfect unless she had been made for him!

"You like Lord Byron's work?"

"Yes, the whimsy of it all is a nice distraction from the weariness and dreariness that is reality." Brody replied. And William couldn't agree any more heartily.

William stepped ahead of Brody and Rupert and held the door of Cook's Bookshop for them. Brody entered first and was stunned at the sheer enormity of the inside of the shop.

From the street it hadn't stood out at all, but now indoors, Brody could see that the selection here was indeed wide. The room was the same width as the other stores but this one went back so far that the end of it could not be seen. The second floor had been knocked down to combine with the height of the first. Tall bookcases lined the room and soft sofas and roaring fires dotted it. The room was warm, enticing, and comfortable; the type of place Brody could spend hours on end in.

A few men and women ambled around the room, scanning the shelves or lining up by the counter at the fore of the shop. A spry, white-haired, neatly dressed, old man was high up on a ladder. He was placing books in the already heaving shelves when he turned and noticed their small group's arrival. He quickly hopped down the ladder and excitedly addressed William about new deliveries. Brody and Rupert were introduced to the man, Mr. Alfred Cook store-owner, who welcomed them warmly. As Mr. Cook chattered on to William, Brody wandered deeper into the shop.

She passed the front section where there was sports books and stopped by the art books. Her eyes were drawn to a cover that was made of satin sewn over the normal binding. Crystals were attached in a ring around the edge of the book. The floral patterned book contained pictures of the works and information about Renaissance artists and the art itself. She held it tight in her hands and continued further into the shop. Her eyes widened when she saw a darkened alcove to the right. It was so unlike the rest of the building.

While where she was standing now was warm and welcoming the hallway she could see was dark and cold and bare. Although it wasn't welcoming, something pulled her towards the archway into the hall. She took a deep breath and peered inside.

The carpet ended and became rough flagstone. The walls were bare and flaming torches dotted the wall at very irregular intervals. The opposite wall down the hall was decked with bookcases made of a battered, untreated wood. Her eyes registered something on one shelf and she stared away then narrowed her eyes back at the object. 'My Lord!' she thought 'That's a bleeming skull!' She stepped inside and read some of the titles on the spines of the books: _Balthazar's Guide to Mythical, Mundane and Magical Monsters, Strategic Spells, Vengeance Spells, Spells for Love, Vampyr. _The last one caught her attention; she didn't know why, but it called out to her. She inched it from the constricting shelf and leaned back against the bare wall beneath one of the torches. Brody flipped it open and read the first page. She gasped when she read the word 'slayer' and images assailed her.

_FLASH_

"_My Slayer" a lower-class London accent declared. The tones were uncultured, everything she shouldn't want but Brody's body shivered in response to the man's voice. _

_Who was he? She couldn't see the man's face; it was too low down and pressed against her bare abdomen. She was astounded. Where was she? What was she doing with this man? Why did he seem familiar? Why was she aching for him to touch her more and not pulling away? What the hell was going on? _

_She watched the scene play out before her through her own eyes, yet said words and did things as if playing a role. She didn't consciously command her voice-box to say such forward things or her limbs to commit such improper actions._

"_Oh, Spike! I love you." she said to the man who mumbled happily against her stomach in return._

"_It'll just be you, me and the kids against the world. Such a beautiful family! What'd I do to deserve you?" _

"_I don't know…You won the girlfriend lotto?" Brody heard herself respond. The words confused her and her manner with the unknown man shocked her. And did he say…kids? And family?_

"_Marry me?" the man said suddenly._

_FLASH_

_When Brody's eyes adjusted she was now in a darkened meadow lying on top of the man from the last- dream, vision? Whatever these were. Their legs were tangled and he leaned back against a big willow tree. Her head lay against his marble chest and she listened to the rumble of his contented purrs. She knew she should be panicking but in this man's strangely recognizable embrace she was at peace. _

_The man, she'd called him Spike, dipped his head to her neck and she felt something shift against her skin. Before she could react he bit into her neck with razor sharp teeth. She should have been terrified but the slight throbbing sting calmed her and soon fizzled into mind-numbing pleasure. He pulled a few mouthfuls of her blood into his sinfully talented mouth and she fisted her hands into his shirt, writhing on top of his body. She needed something to anchor her lest‚ she drift away completely. All too soon he ceased and lapped at her wound to close it. He nuzzled her throat, pulled her tighter against himself and whispered happily._

"_I love you, my sweet."_

"_Uhnnn…I love you too." Brody heard herself reply and strangely she meant the words she uttered to this stranger._

_He kissed her mouth but her closed eyes couldn't seek out his face. When she opened them again, she was crushed protectively, lovingly against his chest. She looked out across the beautiful, mountainous landscape and turned her head abruptly at the sound of two excited shouts._

"_Mummy! Daddy!" two little voices called in unison. Brody saw a tiny boy and girl, of the same age, with blond hair and vibrant blue eyes approaching her and Spike rapidly. _

_Their arms were outstretched and they smiled widely. Spike chuckled beneath her. She knew instinctually that these were her babies and her heart warmed so quickly she felt as if her veins were going to burst. They were dressed so bizarrely. The boy was wearing a black shirt with an odd collar and short sleeves; it had a picture of a man and the words _Sid Vicious _written on it. He had tiny little shorts on and black chunky boots. The girl wore a grey and pink dress‚ similar boots and a jacket made of what looked to be black leather. She had never seen anything so peculiar and the feeling of love that she felt at the sight of them was so overwhelming she had trouble breathing._

_FLASH_

_Brody was in a cemetery. It was day and she was running rapidly around headstones her eyes trained on the green figure in front of her. What was happening now? Her head spun from the turmoil of the changes between each scene. She gave into what was occurring. Resistance was very obviously futile, so she sat back and watched the events unfold._

_Her body soared through the air and attacked the figure's legs, pulling it to the ground. He turned to look at Brody when they hit the ground, hard. She inwardly gasped. He was a monster with horns and eight eyes. Each eye blinked at her in an innocent manner, he raised his hands in defeat and lay back on the ground, watching her fearfully._

"_Look Slayer, I'm sorry. Take the Watcher's book. Honestly, it's nothin' personal. I gots no problem with ya. I just have a family to feed and that book is worth a bundle." he said hastily. She picked up the book and tucked it under her arm._

_She felt herself sigh. "Lenny, if you're strapped for cash, you should have come to me. You know I'll do my best to help you and the kiddies."_

"_Yeah, Slayer. I'll keep that in mind."_

"_You just behave yourself, Lenny. Okay?"_

"_Yeah, yeah." _

_Brody watched the monster scramble away and she got to her feet. She felt her head shake of it's own accord at the monster's seemingly disappointing behaviour. Although why she expected better, she didn't know. Her feet followed a path down the streets and through a strange town. The houses were small and close together but nicer than those of the working-class. She was shocked to see metal carriages without horses moving along the unusually paved roads. People who passed were loud, crude and wantonly dressed. _

_She, however, felt at home and not scared. Brody approached a brightly lit, buzzing household and she walked to the door and let herself in. She pulled her coat off and stared at the abnormal furnishings. She sighed wearily and hung her coat on a hook by the front door, her body still moving by itself. She walked into the room closest and saw the back of __Spike's head in an armchair, her sisters and mother snuggled on a sofa. They were all staring at a metal box showing moving pictures and making sounds with undivided attention. Each chuckled every so often. None turned from looking at the object but Spike called out to her._

"_Rough day at the office, honey?"_

_Her sisters and mother turned to look at her and gauge her response. With her eyes trained on them she nodded and sat on the arm on his chair and shrieked giddily when he pulled her onto his lap._

"_You have no idea." her voice responded and Brody agreed heartily with herself._

_FLASH_

_She woke this time in bed. But it was not her own bed. She was in __a…crypt? Why was she in a crypt? The room was dark but the small amount of moonlight that strayed inside lit it up enough for her to make out her surroundings. She could make out a sofa and battered, old armchair, another strange, metal box, carpets scattered here and there and piles of books. _

_Brody suddenly realised that she was naked, or a least practically so, and not alone in the bed. Then it occurred to her that she wasn't in a bed, she was curled up on a pile of soft carpets with a strong, cool arm around her. She snuggled deeper into the perfect, alabaster chest and silk sheets. At her fidgeting, the owner of said perfect chest groaned and began to wake. Panic rose in her throat, where was she now?_

"'_Mornin' luv." the voice, Spike she realised, whispered against her ear. She trembled at the sensation of his cool breath teasing her. All panic disappeared when she realised that it was him and her tense body relaxed. That in itself was scary. Why was she so at home in his arms? But she was and waking up like this, feeling loved, feeling desired, feeling precious, feeling whole, made her body thrum and hum with delight. With so many emotions consuming her that she couldn't name or even acknowledge half of them. All she knew was that she had never thought it possible to be this happy._

_She felt Spike's hand trail down between the valley of her chest, across her stomach and between her thighs. She knew the sensation had to be foreign yet, the rightness of it felt familiar. All rational thought flew out the window and her body became boneless at the light caress of his skilled fingers._

"_Ummm…Good…__**Very**__…Good morning." she replied._

_He chuckled warmly at that and pressed chaste little kisses into her hair._

_FLASH_

_Brody groaned as a headache took her whole and her nose suddenly felt stuffy. She was groggy, miserable and wished to still be in Spike's arms. She opened one eye then another. She was in the living room she had seen earlier and was stretched out on the sofa. Dawn was sitting on the ground, leaning back into her and giggling at a book in her hands. Brody peered over her shoulder and saw that Dawn was looking at a book of rather steamy Renaissance art._

_Shaking her head in indulgent amusement, she nudged Dawn lightly with her elbow. _

"_What's up Dawnie?" she heard her voice question._

_Dawn whispered a faint "Hey" and turned towards the hallway. "She's awake!" she shouted into the recesses of the house._

_Joyce and another shy, pretty, blond woman walked into the room. The other woman addressed Brody in a stuttering, sweet voice._

"_W-welcome back from th-the Land of Nod! Here, eat this. It'll help you feel better." the woman assured her._

_Brody took the bowl of broth and smiled graciously at the girl. "Thank you, Tara."_

_So, Tara, was her name! It fit, sweet and small like the girl herself. Tara smiled back shyly. Brody realised that the starring man of these…hallucinations?...was missing. It was she, and not her dream self, that spoke for the first time._

"_Where's Spike?"_

"_Right here, luv." he called out to her and he walked through the door with a baby boy on one hip and a huge, ornate book of Shakespeare's work with a silk, pink bow tied to it at his other side. Buffy stood beside him with Brody's baby girl in her arms and beamed happily at her sister._

_Spike stepped forward and handed her the book while Dawn pried the baby from his arms and started to gush over the little boy. Brody ran her hands over the purple, leather cover encrusted with real rubies in awe. She looked up at Spike with tear-filled eyes and smiled tremulously. His beautiful face struck her, it was the first time she had seen it clearly and she now knew the abstract theme of perfection, personified._

_FLASH_

_This time Brody was disembodied, looking down on the scene. There was a pretty, red-headed girl sitting before a hearth. _

**I offer thee, Powers of the Fate,**

**Branches of Dansel from the Hertald dimension,**

**And blessed sand from the In-Between Lands,**

**Give my suffering friends the peace they need,**

**The hope that is lost,**

**Transport the sorrow and replace it with a new life,**

**Chance to try again,**

**To forget all their strife.**

_The girl smiled triumphantly and pulled a clear crystal from a pouch at her waist. Then dipped it into the flames_.

**When the fire goes out, **

**When the crystal turns black,**

**The spell will be cast.**

**Live again,**

**No matter where or when,**

**Let the pain dim,**

**And a chance at happiness begin**_._

_FLASH_

Brody found herself back in the bookshop. She was slumped against the wall of the dim hallway and sat on the cold, flagstone floor. The book _Vampyr _was clutched tight against her chest. 'What just happened? I'm going mad! That must be it!' she shook her head and picked herself up off the floor. She couldn't just sit there. She added the _Vampyr_ and _Balthazar's Guide to Mythical, Mundane and Magical Monsters _to the art book in her arms and stepped unsteadily into the main area of the shop. She would use these strange books to find answers to the questions that now plagued her mind. On auto-pilot she continued her perusal of the store as if she had never come upon the peculiar hallway.

She walked to the travel section and picked up books about the countries she missed most of all; Greece, Italy, Spain, Germany and Egypt. Then wandered on through the stacks. There were no people here; the most popular books were displayed at the front. She was glad, the silence was golden and she had a chance to sort through what had happened.

Some of the …visions seemed like memories, others felt more like premonitions and the last…Well the last felt as if a clue sent by some higher Power as a tip, a hint to what was happening. _Slayer _that's what Spike and the monster had called her. The book also mentioned it. When she understood what it was, she felt things would be a lot simpler.

And the books! She couldn't be seen purchasing them or the community would be set a titter with gossip. She could be accused of any manner of things, and while she did not care what the society men and women thought of her, she did not wish to be burned at the stake!

Spike. What a strange name! Who was he? Where was he? Why did her heart yearn for him, for his touch? She didn't know a lot of things but intended to figure it out.

The children, her children! She knew from someplace deep inside her heart that they were hers. There was no doubt about it. It was all so terribly confusing! She felt like sobbing and ripping and tearing out of rage and frustration and sorrow. Would she see them again? Were they real? Was she insane? Brody hoped she wasn't but couldn't be sure. She had never thought she was crazy.

Before she could worry too much for her sanity or lack thereof, Mr. Cook jumped out from behind a bookcase. She jumped, gasped and slapped a palm over her thumping heart. She had been so immersed in her thoughts that her sharp ears hadn't picked up any trace of his approach.

"I am sorry, my child! I did not mean to startle you." he apologised gently, his mournful, brown eyes seeking out her face.

"It is quite all right. I was just so lost in my own thoughts that I never heard you get close."

"Mhmmm! Ye lost in thought, ey? Methinks, I know what has your ladyship so preoccupied."

'I doubt it.' Brody thought sceptically but nodded for him to continue.

"You had an attack of the visions!" he declared, with an extremely self-satisfied grin.

"How…?" she gasped.

"I know a lot more of the world than people give credit to a bookworm such as myself." he explained softly.

"Oh?"

"Why, yes! You are a Slayer!" he announced.

"I am? What is a Slayer?" she asked, shocked to have her suspicions confirmed.

"A Slayer is the one girl in all the world chosen to fight the vampires and the forces of darkness. She is mystically enhanced with strength which was originally ascertained from the very creatures she fights. There is one Slayer every generation, but if she is killed in battle the next girl is called."

She should have been scared, obviously he was mentally unsound. Monsters? Vampires? Forces of Darkness? It was all preposterous! But how else could the strange things that had just happened to her or the oddities she had witnessed around the world be explained?

"And I am the chosen girl?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"You do not belong here."

"What?" Brody exclaimed.

"This is not your world. You see there are many worlds, called dimensions. Some are the same as this with slight differences. Maybe one person doesn't exist or the sky is a different colour. This is not your world."

"Huh?" she said not caring about etiquette or manners.

"You, your family and some others are from a different dimension. For the time-being you belong here. There is some reason you are here."

"And why _are_ we here?" Brody demanded testily.

He put his hands up in mock-surrender. "Do not shoot the messenger! That is all I know."

"I am sorry." Brody said, rubbing a hand across her weary face "It is just all so confusing. I'm not who I thought I am and every thing I know to be true is a lie."

Mr. Cook saw that she was on the brink of tears. "Do not worry. I will help you."

"Thank you." she said forcefully, meaning every syllable.

"You are here for a reason. Likely someone did a spell. When you and your family complete the tasks that have brought you here, everything will go back to normal."

"A spell?" she asked rhetorically as her agile mind thought of the visions "I saw a girl in one of the visions, she was doing what looked to be a spell."

"Can you remember what she said?" Mr. Cook inquired. She nodded and he whipped out a pencil and some paper. She wrote down the words the girl had said.

"Good. This will be very helpful! I will look over my books and see what I can find. Do not worry. Everything will work out, you'll see. Just enjoy yourself and do everything your heart tells you, do not question it." he said and noticed the books she carried. "Give me the books you took from the hallway. I will package them so no one questions you about them."

"Thank you. I didn't know what I was going to do!"

"It is quite alright. Now go look around the rest of the shop and I'll see you at the front in a minute."

Brody nodded and walked even further into the impossibly deep shop.

She waltzed around the shop, the odd incidents of moments ago forgotten as she lost herself in the smell of new books and old, musty tomes and the thousands of titles printed neatly on spines. Her arms were laden with such a stack of books that a normal girl would have been weighed down, hell; a normal man would have been weighed down. Brody passed from one section to another, grabbing books which caught her eye here and there.

She had picked up a new Jane Austen novel, a golden covered, jewel embossed, collection of Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales, a copy of Charles Dickens' "Nicholas Nickleby", a collection of tales by the Brothers Grimm and a book of Lord Tennyson's poetry as well a compilation of Robert Herrick's poetry and a few others that had caught her attention.

Brody headed to the front of the shop and ran directly into William. The books tumbled to the floor and she would have followed had he not grabbed her upper arms to stop her fall. The momentum carried her forward and flush against his body. Her hands splayed across his chest to save herself and her hips were thrust forward, close to his. They both stood like that for several long, silent moments. They were both winded and surprised and did not even think to move. Brody stood, tilting her head slightly to look up at him and her chest heaved from the adrenaline pumping its way through her system. William looked down at her with a frown of concern.

"Miss Brody! Are you quite all right? I am sorry; I did not see you there."

"I am well. Don't fret William." she assured him gently and placed a comforting hand on his cheek.

He placed his hand over hers then removed it lightly. At her raised brow he smiled apologetically. "It wouldn't do for your reputation to be seen in such a compromising position with me. I'm certainly not worth ruining yourself over." His eyes were devastatingly sorrowful and lonely.

Her heart broke for him in that second. "Who told you that you aren't worth it?"

He nearly choked when her words registered. "What?"

She continued on unfaltering. "Because I could rid the world of them for you…" she raised her eyebrows and waggled them in a 'you know you want to' way.

He took in her expression and his face broke into a wide grin. He erupted in unmanly giggles that had Brody laughing along delightedly with him. She looked up at him kindly and placed a hand on his arm. William looked down at her hand and then up at her face, surprise etched across his handsome features.

"I wish us to be friends, William. You are a kind, good man. Whoever led you to disbelieve your worth is blind or jealous or both." she declared feelingly.

William stood with his mouth agape. He did not know how to reply to kind words like those he had imagined for so long. It was such a pivotal moment, and yet he could not think anything at all to say, least of all something witty and monumental.

"Come, now. Papa will be wondering as to where we disappeared." she said, piling the books in one arm and linking the other with William. She led him forward softly and he snapped out of his reverie to follow. He realised that their arms were linked and blushed profusely.

William did not dare deny her touch once more, for she was indeed a formidable lady and would likely not take kindly to his rejection, no matter how unwillingly said rejection was executed. Besides, he was rather enjoying the envious glances that were being thrown his way by the other men in the shop.

"Allow me to help you there, Miss Brody?" he said, indicating the books.

"Not at all! I am quite capable." she replied indignantly, eyeing him with a flare of challenge in her wide eyes.

"No doubt you are." he blustered hastily "But it wouldn't do for a gentleman to allow a lady to be burdened when he could easily lend a hand to help."

"I suppose it wouldn't, but seeing as how this lady is quite terrifying, I think you may yet be forgiven for such atrociously ungallant behaviour." she teased as way of apology for her harsh tones moments before and handed William seven of her fifteen books. He smiled sheepishly at her and she beamed back in response to his gentle, shy and endearing conduct.

They reached the front of the store where Mr. Cook immediately gathered all the books and piled them into bags along with the parcelled books from the corridor. Rupert was leaning against a wall, flipping casually through one of his new acquisitions and waiting for the appearance of his daughter. He looked up quickly and noticed William and Brody approaching. He smiled to himself, knowing that his speculation of the pair had been hidden by the gleam of light against his spectacles. Their arms were linked and they were smilingly chatting away. Rupert was delighted; William was a steady, level-headed influence on his beloved yet reckless daughter. Rupert was good at reading people's characters and William seemed to him to be a good man; he was intelligent and kind and was not shallow unlike many of his male Ton counter-parts.

"William, thank you for finding my daughter!" Rupert said merrily "I am afraid that we must be on our way but I do hope that we will see you again soon."

William nodded as he handed Brody to her father and shook his hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you both."

"The sentiment is very much returned." Rupert smiled warmly.

"Goodbye, Mr Pratt. I hope to see you soon!" she called back to him with a wave as she and Rupert headed out the door. Mr. Cook followed to help load the saddle bags with the books. Brody handed him the money and a huge tip and thanked him copiously.

William returned to the house a half hour before his mother had asked him to be home. He couldn't keep the near-maniacal grin from lighting his face. 'Miss Brody wishes to be **my **friend!' he thought 'Such a beautiful, intelligent lady; she could keep company with whomever she pleases and yet she picks me!'

For years William had lived in an almost solitude with the exception of his mother. At Oxford he had made the only two true friends he had ever had; two like-minded boys who where awkward, geeky and dreamy. They still remained in contact with each other, but John had moved to the Americas with his American wife and Edmund lived in his family chateau in France. Letters were regularly traded but the postal system was unreliable, at best and much communication was not possible. When together, things were dangerous; three such gauche young men attracted the attentions of the more venomous, vindictive gentlemen of society. William remembered the horrible incidents that had occurred, all the times they had been sent running or hiding or defending themselves from harsh, vicious beatings. But they had always stuck together; truly defining the phrase 'through thick and thin'. With them now both gone, he had spent five years in a state of constant loneliness; only to be eased by his kind and loving mother.

Miss Cecily he had thought would be his saviour. He knew that his mother did not approve of the young lady in question, saying that there was something snide about the girl. William could not bear to listen to her being slighted by the person who's opinion meant the world to him, although deep down he couldn't ignore her tendency to gossip or be cold.

Brody was anything but cold, she was warm, friendly and inviting without being improper or loose. He had never met a lady like her before. She was exotic, she was passionate, she was witty, she was well-read and when they were in the bookshop she had worn the same expression of excitable delight that his mother had remarked on him wearing when they had visited such places. She was stunning yet humble in a way that was nearly always absent in ladies of the Ton. She was unusual in such a pretty manner and a fascinating blend of innocence and worldly knowledge. There was wisdom and kindness in her eyes beyond her estimated seventeen years. She was perfection in human form.

And she genuinely wished to befriend him!

He was amazed and honoured. She reminded him of a classical Greek goddess; with her long, pale limbs, her slight frame, wide, childlike eyes with thick, long lashes, tumbling, wavy hair in that unusual pink shade and angular, yet soft features that were strikingly fine-looking. And she always seemed to have a joyous, full of life countenance, signalled by the curve of her beautifully shaped, plump, cerise lips. He could spend hours comparing her to strawberry fields, nymphs, sunlight and meadows. Everything cliché and sweet and inept in capturing her loveliness, but she was not just handsome outside she was the most attractive person he had met on the inside also.

He could not forget that. She was kind and sweet. She was quiet, dreamy and very soft-spoken, yet he knew that once she had become comfortable around a person that she would open up and be the most agreeable, lively company.

Truly, he was a goner. How could he not fall head-over-heels for her?

William was dragged from his inward musing by the playful smirk of delight tugging at his mother's lips and the arch of a knowing brow. His mother had noticed the unwavering joy on her boy's face and was thrilled to see him so uncommonly cheerful. Society did not see her son's immense worth, didn't see his large heart, kind soul and bravura mind. 'Fools!' she hissed in her mind when she thought of all the times William had returned home beaten and bullied as a child and humiliated and distraught as an adult. Nowadays, he wasn't injured physically by his peers but they left scars that ran much deeper. Scars which were far more devastating and permanent. The world was unworthy of her little lad.

Anne smiled at her son and motioned him to the Drawing room where she was already dressed and ready to go. Anne Pratt was known across London for her kindness, reliability and promptness. They were never late for anything and were the most gracious of guests.

William entered the bright room, filled with the already dimming rays of the short London days. He kissed the top of her head and fell into the plush sofa, next to where she perched anxiously anticipating news of what had him so chipper. While William was always happy around his beloved, old mum, today he practically was glowing.

"My darling boy! What has you in such high spirits? I feel as though I should thank God for the miracle!" she exclaimed, bouncing slightly in her seat.

William chuckled warmly at his mother's excitable behaviour and smiled adoringly at her. "Well, mother, I happened to meet today, a wonderful young lady who wishes us to be friends. She is the most perfect creature on this earth, I dare say."

Anne raised the other brow at that. "Perfect, ey?"

"Oh, yes mum. I should think that she is perfection personified." William enthused with an emphatic nod.

"Oh? Well, tell me about this lady." Anne was dying to know about the woman who could have such a deep and immediate impact on her son.

"Her name is Broderique but she asked that I refer to her as Brody. Apparently that is what her family and friends call her. She is around seventeen but she is much wiser than that and far more mature than any other young ladies her age. Miss Brody is very well read and educated. She is very witty and intelligent. She is very kind and sweet. And she is unbelievably dazzling. Her hair is a strange pale pink colour; I've never seen anything quite like it. She has these big, wide blue-grey eyes and is sinewy like a nymph. Her features are lovely and are made even lovelier by the way her magnificent, ardent soul shines through." William babbled out animatedly.

Anne smirked "I cannot wait to meet this girl that you are so taken with." She added in her head 'And hopefully she can expel thoughts of that spoiled brat, Cecily from your mind.'

"You will adore her mother." William assured her.

"And what of Cecily? Has this girl replaced her in your favour?" Anne asked pointedly, with her fingers secretly crossed.

William blushed and gasped. "Mum!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Anne inquired innocently "Do you think that your old Mum has gone dim in her age? I could see that you harboured feelings for that girl, Cecily straight away, I never believed that you 'only wish to be friends with her, mother'."

"You assume also that I wish to be more than friends with Miss Brody!" William responded.

"Oh William! You know you cannot hide anything from me. Besides, one does not describe a friend as you describe Miss Broderique." Anne countered with a smirk of shrewdness.

"Touché!" William said with a laugh.

"Go now, get ready for this lunch and we shall talk more in the carriage." Anne said, waving him out of the room.

She sat back and listened to him thundering up the stairs. She shook her head, always trying to please her he had rushed to do her bidding. He would make a good husband if some young girl would give him half the chance. It was almost worth revealing their true abundance of wealth in order to get him seen by the ladies of the Ton. Yet...she did not want some money-grabber for her son.

Her head began to throb. Life was never simple!

Brody was spread across a patch of lawn in the tiny courtyard on the top floor of the Summers-Giles London home. She was wearing a pretty day dress of dark pink silk with a low, French-style neckline. Black lace edged the hem of the skirt and sleeves as well as the neckline. The bodice was decorated with thousands of tiny little crystals, sewn in an intricate pattern of loops and swirls. Her hair was swept into a loose chignon with tendrils framing her face.

Lunch would be soon but she was currently enraptured by Jane Austen's latest tale of romance, intelligent women and angsty drama. She had decided that she would not worry about her not belonging in this place, for all she knew this was where she had lived her entire life and the man who knew so much had told her to live as she usually would. If that was what was required of her she would gladly pretend to be in the dark about the truth.

She rolled onto her stomach and stretched her arms over her head before picking the book back up and crossing one ankle over the other. She waved her crossed legs in the air as she hummed to herself.

William skipped down from the carriage, smiled warmly at his doorman, held a hand out and aided his mother's descent down the steep carriage steps. He linked arms with her as they swept up the staircase to the house they were visiting. He had no desire to be here, none at all, yet his mother wished to attend and he could never deny her anything. He tucked her tiny hand into the crook of his elbow and supported her frail weight; she'd been feeling rather ill of late.

As they approached the entrance he took in the ornate décor, the architecture was a mixture of European designs, Spanish, French, Italian, German and English. The building was much more tasteful than the surrounding houses; it was elaborate without being gaudy. The house was warm and inviting, a true home. The gardens were manicured yet untamed and unblemished by man in places. The contrast was stark and breathtaking.

A light breeze tossed the branches and leaves of the trees bordering and lining the path to the door. William breathed in the crisp afternoon air and tried to control his raging emotions, he wanted nothing more than to run after the carriage and go home. He would soon be faced with Marcus Fisher and those other ingrates. He clutched slightly at his mother at the thought of the idiot but then his thoughts turned to Cecily. She would probably be here as well. That was a comforting thought.

The door was opened by the two doormen who smiled warmly at them both and bobbed slight bows. William nodded at them and led his mother inside.

"We'd best be finding our hostess." Anne said to him.

"Of course, mother." he replied and turned to ask a maid scurrying past as to the whereabouts of the hosts.

"In the parlour, my lord." she answered and pointed in the right direction.

William thanked her and followed his mother through the small crowd to the parlour. He wondered about the owners, all the help he had met so far were stylishly dressed, extremely healthy looking, intelligent, happy and seemed overjoyed to be working here. They must be good people, these hosts, to incur such merriness from staff which normally resented their bosses.

In the parlour he saw the usual faces as well as a few new ones. There was a young girl with flashing blue eyes, a hyper and warm energy, an endearing smile and long, straight, brown hair. Another girl but she was about six years older than the other and had hazel eyes, long, upswept blond hair and a pixyish, rather angelic looking face. There was an older woman, beautiful and sophisticated with wavy, shoulder length, brown-blonde hair; was very slim and had a sweet, motherly presence. Beside her was…

Rupert Giles, the man he had met earlier today. Of course! His mother had said this morning that they would be dining in the Summers-Giles home but he'd only been half listening and hadn't made the connection when he met Mr. Giles and Miss Brody…

Miss Brody! She'd be here!

William felt guilty that thoughts of said young woman had chased away their counterparts about Cecily, once again, but the excitement at seeing Brody again made him move on quickly.

"William! It's good to see you again." Rupert exclaimed happily as he held a hand out for William to shake.

"Very much likewise, s-sir." William responded with a shy grin. "Um, this is my mother Anne Pratt."

"I'm very pleased to meet you; your son is a good man." Rupert said as he kissed Anne's hand.

"Thank you, it's nice to meet you too. Your home is lovely." Anne returned with a smile.

"This is my wife, Joyce and my daughters Elizabeth and Dawn, and I'm afraid that our other daughter can't be located at the moment." Giles said, indicating to those being named as he did so.

"Miss Brody is missing?" William questioned in alarm.

"No, no don't fret, Mr. Pratt." Joyce assured him calmly "She tends to get lost in her thoughts, or painting or reading and loses track of the time. She'll head down here when she takes the time to check the hour."

"Oh yes!" Dawn nodded empathically "She's probably in a tree somewhere."

William laughed slightly at the perky smile plastered on the little Bit's face, she was adorable and he'd always wanted a sibling.

Joyce and Giles began to fidget; as much as they wished to stay and chat they had twenty other guests to attend to. "Mrs. Pratt, would you like to come with us while we greet our other guests?" Joyce asked.

"I'd love to, I can introduce you." Anne smiled graciously and linked her arm with Joyce's proffered one.

William stared after his mother, happy that she was making new friends, upset that he was alone once more. Dawn timidly touched his arm.

"Y-yes?" he inquired.

Dawn surveyed his face in a manner that was making him exceedingly uneasy. "Brody's right, you're very handsome."

William spluttered in surprise and delight. Brody thought him handsome and in the few short hours since they had met she thought to pass this observation on!

"Sh-she said s-so?" William asked of the young girl.

"She's rather taken with you." Dawn informed him matter-of-factly.

"Someone's taken with our Willy?" a voice queried incredulously, with a mocking tone infecting every syllable like a disease, from behind them and William groaned when he and Dawn span to see Marcus Fisher.

Dawn didn't like this man, instinctually, he was far too arrogant and the way he spoke was seedy. She also didn't like the way the man was making kind, sweet William blush and shrink. She exchanged a glance with her sister Elizabeth, who nodded in understanding.

"I'm sorry to be rude but we have promised Mr. Pratt that we'd give him a tour of the ballroom, excuse us." Elizabeth said linking her arm with him on one side and Dawn copying her on William's other side. They led him from the room with matching smirks. The expression on that man's face had been priceless.

"I have the feeling that Brody may be upstairs, in the courtyard." Dawn hinted, none-too-subtly and nodded her head vigorously in the correct direction.


End file.
